Paper Plane Parade
by XxZuiliu
Summary: In which a boy who desecrates graves for a living finds his life abruptly turned upside-down and sideways upon trying make some extra cash on the side. That saying about digging your own grave? Yeah, this feels a lot like that. Motherfucker. [Male!OC, Vastly AU, Grave-robbing!AU]


Title: Paper Plane Parade

Rating: T

Summary: In which a boy who desecrates graves for a living finds his life abruptly turned upside-down and sideways, when all he'd wanted to do was make some extra cash. That saying about 'digging your own grave?' Yeah, this feels a lot like that. Motherfucker. [Male!OC, Vastly AU, Grave-robbing!AU]

Warnings: Language. Nothing too crazy in the first chapter here. Please note that this story is going to be highly AU, though.

Disclaimer: I do not own KHR.

AN at the bottom.

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 _Something heavy crashes to the ground, low tremors echoing through the rumbling underbelly of the black earth._

 _A fierce shout._

 _Gunshot._

" _LET GO OF ME!"_

 _A fluttering of startled screams. And abruptly, there is the twisted sound of a blunt instrument bludgeoning against human flesh most painfully, but the chaotic furor does not cease, only rises to a deeper crescendo._

 _A crescendo of madness._

" _Boss, you can't–"_

"– _no use, can't hear you–"_

"… _Damn, if only we–"_

 _It tears apart with a roar of fury, an explosion of brilliant orange flames leaping high into the sky, as far as the eye can see. Such a scene that would normally only inspire awe now draws a pale-faced fear, grim determination._

 _In the middle of this all, stands a single man._

 _There is a man, tall and blond and of strong build, standing in the epicenter of the flames. It is him, the source of this chaotic outburst. He is the one that has so many people stirred into a panicked frenzy; he is the reason for their worry. There is something both startling fragile and firm as the immovable mountains that shines brightly in his eyes, and as he steps forward to brush aside all that would stop him, towering and intimidating and overflowing with strength–_

 _But it's no use._

" _Stop that, Iemitsu. You're old enough to know better than to lose control of yourself like this. Have you gone mad? It's your own subordinates that you've been attacking."_

 _Another man. There is another man who steps forth, an old man of shorter height and weaker build, but no less dangerous for all his outward frailty. Look closer and observe –there is a dangerous, dangerous fire that burns in his veins, carved into his bones, even if it does not reach who he is at the core of his very being. Even if it does not reach his heart._

 _It is enough._

"… _Don Vongola." A hoarse whisper from a raspy throat. A whisper that does not go unheard, cracked with grief and anguish as it is. "Don't stop me. You have no right to stop me. They're in danger. Nana, Tsuna –my wife, my son–"_

" _Are dead. And there is no use in losing yourself over the dead, Iemitsu. You know that very, very well."_

 _._

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 **Paper Plane Parade**

 _1: The Encounter_

01\. "Unto Ashes"

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Greetings, friend.

If you are looking for a story about courage and bravery, about the miracles that can happen when backed by a steadfast will to enact changes for the better, then I must politely insist that you look elsewhere, please. While I will indeed speak here of courage and bravery and miracles, that is not the main point of this tale. This is not a simple story about adventure, about trials and tribulations, about overcoming hardships through fierce loyalty and unshakable solidarity and warm kindness.

No, far from that.

Far be it.

Rather, this is a story detailing the end of the world.

The world in question here is a strange one, for all the beauty that it possesses. And for a world whose existence is intrinsically tied to the delicate balance of flames providing light and life upon the land, it should come as no surprise that the tale of the end of this world begins with flames, too.

(Creation and destruction, hand in hand as it had and has always been from the beginning of time.)

Look to the distance. It unfurls in the not-so-far distance not unlike the darkness of grim underground tunnels perpetually drowned in shadows; hungry, all-consuming, violently seething and tumultuously churning, as if to reach for and drown out the brilliant world of light that has abandoned it. The black-ash smoke coiling off crackling flames does not curl up into the sky like delicate tendrils, the embodiment of grace and fragility, but rather something more like mushroom clouds instead.

… Yes, mushroom clouds. But don't focus too much on the mushroom clouds; it's not the little details like mushroom clouds that are important here.

Overlooking this sight of blazing destruction from afar is the silhouette of a tall man, leaning back and watching silently as thick, roiling sheets of acrid black smoke billow relentlessly up, up, up. Up and onwards and straight over the sharp horizon of that faraway pale blue.

Now, it would be worth bringing up here that mankind has always had a silly little dream –a dream that consists of things like superhuman strength and eternal life and the ability to leap up and take flight into the open sky. This man in particular, if he held any interest in pursuing fickle fancies like these, would only have one more item on the checklist to cross off if he ever decided to place such a thing as his priority. But for all intents and purposes in this specific case, it's a moot point to consider, because it is nothing if not the honest truth that there are very few things nowadays that Reborn can find it in himself to _care_ about, really.

Take this very moment, for example. Standing beneath the sweltering heat of a too-bright summer sun, taking in the sight of a good patch of a civilian district burning to ashes, police sirens and the incessant chatter of morbidly curious passerby slowly beginning to gather –it's not a lie to say that Reborn. Is. _Bored._

Thoroughly bored out of his skull, even, not that this would be something that he'd ever admit aloud. Colonello would certainly laugh himself to pieces and call him _old_ should he ever catch wind of that, the thickheaded imbecile. But that's all a little neither here nor there; as bored as he is, it does not change the fact that there is a job to be done, and Reborn is not widely hailed as the _Greatest_ for nothing. It is not an empty title like what so many others tend to be nowadays, all bark and no bite. Professionalism is a point of pride for him.

The earpiece nestled in his ear fizzles with static noise for a good few more seconds before the rattled distortions straighten out into intelligible sounds again. It helps to abate the boredom.

"– _to begin damage control here. Nearly 90% complete demolition of the district has just been confirmed, although the exact casualty count has not yet been reported. Estimating that it's the work of a Rank-A; the tracking team has arrived on site and will be working to find traces of–"_

"That will be unnecessary."

His voice is rich, cultured, smooth. For a single instant, it is all that is tangible of the man. Because one moment he is simply standing there, and in the next there is nothing but _the roar of a thunderclap, the brilliant intensity of a light-flare, an explosion of power that is nothing but pure Sun in entirety, manifesting in its purest and most primal form_. Yet rather than being overwhelmed by such magnificent power, it bends to his will; not forcibly, not unwillingly, but in a way as if it is the most natural thing in the world.

(It makes sense because in the end, they are one and the same, the Sun and this being called 'Reborn.')

The tall man vanishes on the spot without so much as a single twitch, only the barest shimmer of a heat-haze vibrating in his wake, before near-instantly reappearing right in the heart of the burning inferno he had watched from afar only a moment ago. The hellish inferno spitting ash-smoke into the sky.

His arrival does not go unnoticed; he is not the only one standing there in midst of the scorching blaze. Reborn watches with vague amusement as nearly every person standing in the immediate vicinity leaps out of their skin from shock, hurriedly whirling around to level their guns at him –before there is another authoritative shout that rings through the air, smartly snapping order back into their ranks over the fierce crackling of ravenous flames.

"That's enough, stand down!"

Sparks of burning embers scatter wildly into the air, glowing specks of red and red-hot white. The collapse of a nearby building sends more men scrambling to reach a safer position before they are burned to death –but Reborn's attentions are no longer lingering on these ignorant men.

"Chaos," he greets, smirking, and the dark-haired woman marching in his direction scowls. Not the sort of vaguely flustered, embarrassed scowl that Colonello always manages to elicit just by standing in front of her, but the sort of scowl which is more along the lines of _Alright-I've-had-a-shitty-clusterfuck-of-a-day-already-and-am-THIS-close-to-snapping._ "Charming as always, Lal Mirch."

"Reborn," the woman answers shortly, voice terse and body tense as she responds without even batting an eye at the abrupt addition to their ranks. "Explain. _Now."_

Her fraying temper is evident for the world to see. Small wonder, that. Being overworked and underpaid tends to do that to a person.

"There's no point in sending in a tracking team; Timoteo already asked me to take a look at this." The words roll off his tongue easily, smoothly. "Do you really want to send your men into a mess like this, anyways?"

Lal twitches at the not-so-subtle implication in that statement, hand twitching towards the handgun at her side for only the briefest of moments before the movement is aborted. "Maybe they're not as good as _you,_ Reborn, but they're competent. There's no need to coddle them. Besides, you've already heard the assessment –Rank A. They're not going to be in over their heads, it's not–"

"Please tell me you don't actually believe that."

The woman narrows her eyes at the interjection, fighting to keep hold of her temper. "… Reborn, if this is about what Enrico tried awhile back, I need to remind you that Iemitsu isn't–"

Reborn has near-perfect memory and even better recall, it's part of what makes him so good at what he does. As if he needs to be _reminded._

"This has nothing to do with that." And if his tone is a tad sharper than usual this time, Lal doesn't say anything about it. Reborn sighs. "Did you really think I would show up for a simple A-rank hunt? I don't particularly care for that idiot Sawada, and even though I am loosely affiliated with Vongola, Timoteo knows better than to try and send me on missions that I have no interest in."

"Then why are you here?"

A small lapse of silence. The blistering heat of flames around them rages on, leaps hotter and brighter with each passing moment as ink-black smoke blots out the blue sky, and for all that Lal's men are trained, it does not mean that they are unaffected by standing in the middle of a blazing inferno. Already some are beginning to sway on their feet, while others are starting to gain dull glazes to their eyes. But that's understandable. They are only human, and cannot be held to the standards of monsters.

(Monsters wearing human skin, masquerading as human, once-human now-monster.)

Reborn turns heel and begins striding into the scorching heart of the outburst of flames. He does not bother carefully maneuvering for a safer route with fewer flames and less rubble –the steady pulse of Sun beating within him ensures that the flames that seek to devour him leave not even a single scratch upon his skin as he heads for the epicenter of destruction. Behind him, he can hear Lal barking out sharp, hurried orders before cursing and following after him as he knew she would. For all that the woman is harsh on her subordinates and even harsher on herself, it does not mean that she does not _care,_ and any longer spent standing in this unholy inferno would only begin adding more numbers to the fatality count if things continued in this direction.

Inhuman as Lal might be, it did not change the fact that she still retained some very human characteristics in the core of her personality.

"Reborn!"

He does not bother slowing his footsteps, knowing that she will catch up shortly as long as he makes sure to stay within sight. Instead, Reborn turns his attention to his surroundings, to the heartless flames.

Fire. Very useful, that. Fire burns, eats, destroys. It is good for large-scale, wide-area damage. It is also equally effective for getting rid of evidence.

"Officially, the consensus regarding this is that an A-ranked Eater attacked Namimori," Reborn comments neutrally as he glances back at the CEDEF officer wading through the sea of fire. "It makes sense, based on the scale of destruction. And it's not too far-fetched to surmise that the fire was accidentally started sometime in midst of the chaos either, especially since they had some sort of lantern festival going on."

"But you think there's more to it," Lal states more than asks as she draws level with the raven-haired man, then pinches the bridge of her nose. "Look, I agree that this entire thing seems suspicious. That's the entire _point_ of why I'm here. I'm fully aware that even though the appearance of Eaters are pretty much random and unpredictable all the time, something like this shouldn't have happened in _Namimori._ If Namimori of all places was attacked by an Eater, it should've been taken care of long before the situation had time to worsen to this point."

"Yes. From the looks of _this–"_ Reborn waves a single hand, gesturing at their surroundings in general, "–it looks much more like something you would see around the premises of one of those graves. That's about the furthest thing away from what Namimori is."

The duo pause in tandem when a demolished building ahead of the collapses with a mighty groan, sending a wave of blistering heat directly over them. They only feel it as a vague tingle of warmth against their skin.

"You surmise that this isn't an accident, then." Lal shakes her head, "Well, there goes one more vote for Iemitsu's conspiracy theory. He's been inconsolable ever since he heard about this incident."

"Tch," Reborn clicks his tongue. "He never bothers to visit his wife and child; I'm surprised that he even remembers that they exist at all."

"Be nice, Reborn. The man's just lost his family."

"… Not going to rip me a new one for saying something like that about your boss?"

A sharp bark of laughter tears its way out of Lal's throat. "Look, he's my boss and I receive my orders from him, but that doesn't mean I approve of every single decision that he makes. He's a good leader in the field and a brilliant commander, but his family situation, well… Iemitsu's not much of a family man. He thinks that he's protecting them and keeping them safe by staying away."

"Right. Well." Reborn's footsteps finally come to a halt amidst the ashes and flames. The heart of the flames, the spot from which the inferno had come to life. The starting point of the destruction –or rather, the aftermath of. "Look at how well that turned out here."

With some creative imagination, it is still possible to see the overall structure of a house standing there, if only barely. The mindless flames burning here in the center of Namimori know nothing but destruction, to eat away at everything in its path with a single-minded intensity until there is nothing left. There are next to no traces left, but Reborn and Lal are both professionals, and so they look and _see._

Just a day ago, this was where the former Sawada residence to one Sawada Nana and another Sawada Tsunayoshi stood.

"There's not too much to be found about the Eater anymore," Lal murmurs from his left. "We've been called in too late. Pretty much everything here has been burned down already. Crude, but certainly an effective way of hiding its tracks… We might be looking at an intelligent one here in that case, if it deliberately started this fire."

"Probably," Reborn agreed. "Shame, that."

There is no trace of disappointment whatsoever in the man's voice, and Lal gives him a withering, dry look. "Right. Look, are we going to keep dancing around the subject like this? I agree that this entire thing rubs me the wrong way, but it's not _impossible_ for something like this to happen… only improbable. And no matter how you look at it, it's just an A-rank Eater. Probably one of the crazy ones from Kyoto. Once we pick up the readings, we can sort it all out like usual. So why are you _really_ here, Reborn?"

For a moment, it does not seem as if the man intends to respond.

"… Timoteo told me something interesting when he requested me to take a look here." His eyes are focused on the ruins of the Sawada household. "Namimori is not as overlooked as most believe it to be. And… Iemitsu's son, Tsunayoshi. Seems like Timoteo had a hand in keeping the boy quiet all these years; I'm not too surprised. Point is, they found his wife's body when they first came on the scene, didn't they? _But not his son's."_

"Maybe it's been burned to ashes. Or, y'know, eaten. Eaters tend to do that to people."

"Oh, I have no doubt that Sawada Tsunayoshi is dead. The first-response team found too much blood on the scene to suggest otherwise. What Timoteo wants so badly is precisely the _body._ Or, the corpse of the Eater that attacked this town and ate the boy. He's desperate enough to want this done quickly, as fast as possible –why else would he call for me? I admit, I didn't really think it would be anything too special, but… oh, this is good. I'm _glad_ I decided to take this job."

Lal regards her companion with something startling akin to wariness. "Why are you here, Reborn?"

For the first time since the beginning of their encounter, Reborn, the Worst Walker and Ghost of Nightmares, _smiles._

"Hunting, of course."

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A good several hundred miles away from the smoldering wreckage that is Namimori, atop the winding road of a twisted mountain path, a flock of crows are promptly startled into flight. It is not without good reason –barely a second passes before there is a battered car veering sharply into sight right around the corner, nearly overturning on its side with all the momentum it has built up. The strident chorus of ghastly, raspy calls fills the air, echoing eerily off the mountainside in a most ominous manner. Now, I would not be able to tell you how it feels to be caught hurtling wildly through such a scene of uneasy desolation, but it is fortunate –or perhaps, unfortunate, depending on one's perspective– that there is certainly someone else who can.

"Fuck yeah!" The whooping, delighted scream of a complete madman comes from the driver's side of the car. "… Che, screech all you want, you miserable little birds. I'd make mincemeat out of you if I didn't have any better things to be doing right now. Lucky you, eh?"

Of course there is no forthcoming response, which only makes the pale teenager driving the car laugh even harder. His car lurches dangerously again while turning the next corner of the mountain path, tires scraping loudly against the loose gravel. Small pebbles skitter out everywhere in every direction, but then another heavy step on the gas pedal, and the car is gone.

"Hoo, boy… never thought I'd be running back to Kyoto again so soon after all the effort I put into leaving that shithole." For all the complaint in the casual drawl of his words, the boy nonetheless has a broad grin splitting his face. "But damn if I've gotta be on the run anymore! 'Bout time I get some fucking luck on my side for once in my life. The gods can go kiss my ass for all I care; I'm never crawling on my knees for them again!"

Rough accent, loose words, careless language.

This is exactly the sort of person who prowls the backs of dark alleys and wouldn't think twice about getting his hands dirty if he has to. Someone who would probably would even do so with great enthusiasm and gusto. If asked, there are a hundred stories that the boy could use to entertain his listener about his hair-splitting, nail-biting escapades.

… But that's a story for another day. That's not the story that's being introduced here.

In a rare moment of silence, the boy glances over his shoulder at the backseat of a car, where there sits a limp, black bag horizontally across the passengers' seats. Or, used to sit, at least. The large, strangely-lumped bag in question had rolled right off the seats a long time ago, not unlike a sack of dead bricks, the moment he hit the rough mountain roads –but that was unimportant in the callous teen's eyes.

"I'm really glad I decided to make a pit stop in Namimori." Voice soft, words nearly purred out in a skin-shivering croon, the boy's hazel eyes _gleamed_ in the dusky lighting of the old car. "Make me a pretty penny won't you, Sawada Tsunayoshi?"

…

… And this, this is how the story starts.

A grief-struck father mourning over his mistakes and oversights to his recently-deceased family. A bored monster's eyes sharpening in interest at the prospect of a worthy hunt. A young, brazen boy with an illegal driver's license, lugging a fresh corpse in the backseat of a stolen car. It almost sounds like the beginning of a joke, doesn't it?

Just between you and me, I do agree that this is not a sight that inspires very much confidence. Perhaps a sight that even makes one _lose_ confidence, really.

But there are worse ways to go about heralding the beginning of the world's end, of fires and monsters and death.

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…

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Author's Notes:

New story! Welcome to _Paper Plane Parade,_ everyone. :) I hope you found the first chapter enjoyable.

Although PPP is an OC fic, it's set in a grave-robbing!AU of the KHR-verse. It's not all that obvious yet in the first chapter here, but it's something that we'll be getting to in later chapters. Regardless, I hope it's not too off-putting a concept, particularly since most OC fics tend to go with a more canon-version of the KHR-verse, even if the storyline itself turns a little AU as compared to canon events.

I really want to take a moment and make a **special mention** to **photojourney** here. I originally ranted about wanting to write a character who has a vastly different personality from the majority of OCs in my fics in an AN in OTD, but it was just a whole bunch of scattered ideas at first. Even though I had the general idea for a mold of the story, but photojourney really helped me kick things into gear and shape it up. The whole 'writing about an OC in an AU!KHR-verse' was also something that I was really hesitant about publicly sharing, too, so thank you very much to photojourney for encouraging me and even help out with editing the story here! You're the best. :D

Even though this first chapter mainly featured Reborn and Lal overlooking the destroyed ruins of Namimori, the narrative of the story will move to mainly follow the OC, who we will see in more detail in following chapters. :3 Any comments on what is seen of his personality thus far? For anyone familiar with my other works, I hope he already comes across as vastly different in character as compared to the OCs I've written before.

 _On a different topic:_ I'm also thinking of starting a **multiverse OC** fic. So, basically an OC who travels through different universes, which means I'll be dabbling in multiple fandoms for a single storyline. I've already got some fandoms in mind, but there's a few that I haven't made up my mind on yet, so I'm putting up a **poll** for this on my profile. **Please head over to my profile and vote** if this is something that catches your eye and you'd potentially be interested in!

Alternatively, if you have fandom suggestions that you don't see on the voting list, feel free to **PM** or **review** them to me, and I'll add them on if they're not already part of my to-write list. ;3

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 **QUESTION:** Any thoughts in general about the way this AU is headed? I hope Reborn and Lal weren't too OOC up there, but if they are, please let me know.

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 **Multiple updates:** _And maybe then you'll know me too_ (Male!OC, Uzumaki!OC, Naruto fic) and OTD have both been updated today, so please head on over and check out the latest chapters~

Till next time,

XxZuiliu


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